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  He stops now, finally, turning back to look at me. ‘How does it work, Cate?’ The wind gusts, whirling orange leaves down around us as I catch up with him.

  ‘It’s secret.’ Wow, that sounds stupid. But it’s all I can come up with. It’s almost like I don’t trust myself to speak.

  ‘Hmm, let me guess.’ Vaughan rubs his stubbly chin. ‘You get chosen? Dragged from your beds at night? There’s some kind of unpleasant test you have to pass before you are taken into the fold. Kind of . . . smelly?’ He holds his hands out. ‘How close am I?’

  ‘How on earth do you know about all of this?’ My voice is shaking.

  He walks around me, circling, slowly. ‘And this afternoon there’s a meeting.’ He smiles, his voice low and velvety. ‘Because you’re itching to get away. You want to reapply your smudged mascara and don your sexiest ninja outfit before meeting your fellow assassins. Am I right, Catey-Cate?’

  I push past him, feeling ridiculed and ridiculous, sure he’ll follow, sure I’ll never be able to shake him, and with a gnawing feeling that he’ll muck up everything for me now he’s here. I break into a run, and I hear him laugh. Once I’ve got a little distance I look over my shoulder and see him standing there, the orange and yellow leaves falling all around him, tall and handsome like he’s in some awful jumper catalogue. I run on, glance back another time, and he’s gone.

  It’s almost as if I imagined him.

  CHAPTER 5

  I’m running down the cliff path, and it’s raining, which is a really difficult combination. The path is chalky here, tufts of thick-knit grass holding the earth together. One slip or twist of the ankle, and I could be tumbling to my death on the beaten rocks below. I’m irritated to death that I’m late – I had all the time in the world to get down here, but somehow after lunch I lost an hour or more pacing up and down in my dorm and fretting about Vaughan. Why is he here? How does he know about the Game? Why do I even care? I glance behind me, absolutely expecting him to suddenly pop up behind a gorse bush, having followed me. I have no idea how I’m going to keep him away from the Game. I have no idea how I’m going to keep him away, full stop.

  But that’s a headache for another time, and I won’t let him spoil this for me. I’ve been looking forward to it for too long to let that happen.

  The path is exposed at first, but as it winds down the cliff, the gorse and general fuzzy beach bushes get taller and the path twistier, and I can’t tell who might be following me or who might be round the corner. I’ve been this way before, a handful of times, but it’s not exactly a commonly walked trail. There’s nothing much down here apart from seabirds, just a thin strip of sand-and shale-scattered beach, a long promontory of rock sticking out into the ocean, and some caves. All forbidden. This is a reckless move on the Guild’s part, because if the school discovered where we were operating out of, they’d come down on us like a ton of bricks. But I know the reasoning behind the choice, and that is, secrecy. For a while the Guild was held in awe by the rest of the school, but in recent years the uninitiated have ventured to crash the party. Kids either wanted to eavesdrop, or join in, or even play tricks on the Guild, sabotage them. Guild members were sworn to secrecy about the location of the Summonings, of course, but stuff always slipped out. And there were only so many locations on the island that were suitable.

  A gust of wind takes me by surprise. I pull my parka around me tightly, and suddenly question my attire. Do I look suitably assassin-y? Should I have fashioned a cloak from my bed sheets? Worn make-up and accessories? Was this a dressy occasion? I do not want to look sloppy, especially in front of Alex. I instantly berate myself for having the thought. I still want him to want me, is that it?

  I reach the beach. There are footprints in the sand, and I feel a shiver go up my spine. I had wondered exactly how to find the caves, because the map is vague, and I’ve never actively looked for them before, just known they were down here somewhere. I’d wondered if there would be a sign, or a pattern of sticks forming an arrow? But now I can follow the trail. I look up behind me, but no, there’s no one later than me. I’ll have to hurry. The wind is whipping a wicked spray up off the slate-grey sea, and it clings to the exposed skin on my face. So much for an Indian summer; I hope this cold patch passes and we go back to the mists and mellow fruitfulness.

  I follow the footsteps, as they hug the base of the cliff, taking me along the stretch of sand towards the promontory. There doesn’t look to be anything like an obvious entrance to a cave along here; no oil lamps hanging, no hooded figure beckoning. But I have little doubt that once inside, it will be a different matter. The Guild will surely be in full ceremonial garb, and there are probably a whole bunch of formalities to the Summoning. I really, really hope I haven’t missed the beginning, and I hope they don’t kick me out because of it. I scurry, head down, following the scuffs in the sand.

  The footsteps stop. They are the footsteps of the whole Guild, I presume, so I’m not exactly following one trail. They stop at the beginning of the strip of tufted grass that lines the cliff face. I look at the rocks, which are covered in part by longer, hanging grass, with an occasional small tree or gorse bush clinging to the side of the cliff. It’s steep, but not sheer. And I can’t see any kind of entrance from here. I walk over the tufted grass in the most direct way to the cliff, figuring that everyone would take the shortest route to the caves. But there is nothing in front of me apart from cliff. I look up, rain falling on my face; seeing the drops gives me vertigo. Don’t tell me I’m supposed to climb?

  As I have the thought, I notice that there are signs that someone has done just that. Fresh soil has been turned over where clumps of grass have been pulled out; there are stones at my feet that don’t look like they have been there long. A little ball of dread forms in my stomach as I find a foothold and pull myself up a little. I reach up, and grasp a rock that comes away in my hand. I jump down. This is seriously dodgy. I look closer, and see that the trail stops only a little higher up than I’d reached. Ah, Cate. This is all part of the fun. They wanted you to think this was where the cave was, but it’s not.

  I turn and stride off in the direction of the promontory. Those footprints in the sand are obviously a ruse to confuse us apprentices, or indeed, any outsider who is skulking around. The entrance to the caves will be further along the grass. I hurry, scanning the cliff face as I go. It becomes sheerer, until the cliff turns a corner and the grass ends, and only rock remains between me and the sea, and me and the cliff face. Now I’m really scratching my head. The water is merely lapping at the rocks now, because the tide is out, but I’m sure that things get really wild around here at other times. There’s an arch in the rock, big enough to allow a rowing boat underneath the promontory, but there’s no boat to be seen. I’m sure they don’t expect me to swim. Is there a ledge, or some way of clinging to the cliff face to go underneath the arch? No, nothing. I look up again. Scaling this wall would take serious skill and equipment, and there is no indication of anything. I know this isn’t the right way; I cannot for the life of me imagine Marcia being persuaded to turn the Summoning meetings into some kind of extreme sports exercise.

  I lean my back against the rock, looking back across the little bay, and I feel panic rising. They don’t want me after all. Maybe this was just a meeting place on the beach, and they went on somewhere else. They didn’t wait for me, because I was late, and I’ve been dropped from the Guild already. I get my little black book out of my pocket, sheltering it from the rain with one hand while I flick to the map with the other. Could this be a test that only I have failed? Maybe the real Summoning is somewhere completely different? Could the information on this map be in code – angles of locations, or invisible ink, or a play on words – or something I’m too ordinary and stupid to work out? I curse, shutting the book and staring out across the bay the way I came. I’m doomed.

  And then I see them. The washed-out indentations peeking out of the surf. Right by the water’s edge, more footsteps �
�� not following the cliff this time, but cutting straight across the bay in a direct line back to the cliff path. There, where I descended, is a huge clump of gorse, but from this vantage point, I can now see that there’s a rock behind the bushes, with what looks like it might be an entrance way.

  Ha, ha, ha, Guild. You sent us on a wild goose chase.

  I pick my way over the rocks, heading for the sand once more, following the footsteps of all my fellow apprentices who had the same realization before me. I feel relieved that the Game might not be over for me before it has begun, but stung that everyone else probably figured this out together, not alone and late.

  Sure enough, once I reach the bottom of the cliff path, and walk around the big bush, there is a dark arch of an entrance, facing out to sea. There’s a thick, oiled rope across the entrance with a small wooden sign hanging from it.

  Strictly Out of Bounds

  Ezra Pendleton

  Jackpot. I step over the rope, and into the cave.

  The entrance is almost narrow enough for me to touch both sides, but the cave quickly opens up into a large chamber. The sand sticks to my shoes as I walk; it’s dry in here, which at least gives me some confidence that we won’t get careless and have to swim for it. I walk in, carefully, out of the bright light and into the unknown. There’s nobody here; but there are a couple of shadowy alcoves on the far wall, indications of possible tunnels into other chambers. I walk carefully across the sand and reach the first one. It is a tunnel, a skinny one – I follow it, it narrows further, then hangs a sudden left. The light doesn’t follow. It is dark here, thickly, chokingly dark. There is a low hum, something mechanical – a generator? I edge forward, feeling along both walls, and then suddenly, I’ve lost the right wall. Ack. OK, just keep going. I can’t help but wonder how Tesha with her claustrophobia is dealing with this. The walls are smooth and slimy. Probably dripping with bat droppings. Yup, totally batty, the lot of us . . . Oh lordy, there must be a way out of here—

  I stop in my tracks. I can hear it. Music. The ceremonies must be in full swing. I head towards the sound, bolder now.

  A faint glow, off to my right. The hum is louder too. I take a chance and let go of the wall.

  Ahead, a sickly yellow pool of light, spilling out from behind an edge of rock. The source of the hum is a low, square object, with a thick cable running out of it. I was right, it is a generator. I take a breath and step into the light.

  And there they all are. I’m in awe.

  It looks like a pirate’s lair, lit with candles and oil lamps set into indentations in the rock. This chamber is smaller than I expected, only big enough to allow a little more than a dozen kids to sit around reasonably comfortably, on an assortment of boxes, old rugs and cushions. How did they get all this stuff down here? There are a couple of wooden tables at the back of the chamber. A pecking order is apparent, by everyone’s position. The sombre Elders are at the tables: Marcia sits at the smaller of the two, twirling a strand of liquid hair around a pencil. She has a velvet bag, a laptop, and an old-fashioned desk lamp in front of her. At the second, larger table there’s Carl, all serious cheekbones and dark red hair, and Cynthia, whip-thin pretty with sharp eyes, compulsively playing with a bag of crisps and not opening it. Alex and his best bud, beefcake Rick, lounge between the tables on big beanbags. Rick’s almost as wide as he is tall, with short legs, furrowed brow and inch-long black hair, which he scrubs at with both hands, like it itches him. The Journeymen have bagged the best boxes to sit on: my very own Daniel, and Roger, an amiable chubster with glasses. I feel Daniel’s eyes boring into me through the scruff of hair falling over his face, but I avoid his glance.

  Fairy lights are strung from the low ceiling. On the left at the back is a curtain covering an archway, glittering strings of beads hanging in front of a velvet backdrop. Faces look up at me as I come in; there are no masks here, no ceremonial robes, or hoods pulled low. Just a bunch of kids sitting round listening to Jimi Hendrix. My fellow apprentices are all here: there’s Martin and Tesha – reunited with her initiate mates: Anvi, and ‘edgy’ Whitney. Lastly, there’s Becky; not really part of the circle, but officially the hottest girl in the school, so no surprise the Elder boys wanted her in the Guild. Thirteen players, one Grand Master.

  ‘Bloody hell, Cate!’ Marcia’s voice rings out. ‘Muy tarde, mi amiga.’

  Before I can say anything, a missile is launched in my direction. Instinctively, I fling out a hand and catch it. A can of drink, cold and fizzing ominously in my hand.

  Well, I wasn’t expecting this. The overall effect is that I’ve just wandered into somebody’s boho chic study. The atmosphere is not one of reverence, pomp and circumstance; it’s chilled in here, and rather cosy. I’m simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

  Alex glances at me, deliberately disinterested. He’s semi-reclined on the huge beanbag, but it’s an over-exaggerated cool. I’ll bet my life in this Game that he’s psyched to kick things off.

  ‘OK, Cate, pull up a rock,’ he quips. ‘Folks, we’re finally all here. I’m glad you all found this place, it’s not like it took too much brainpower to figure it out.’ He shoots me a look. ‘At least for most.’

  I open my mouth to explain that I wasn’t really late because I couldn’t work it out, but more because I’ve just been handed a nuclear blast from the past. But I don’t, because it’s only partly true. I find a corner of rug to sit on, and plonk myself down between fellow apprentices Tesha and Emily.

  ‘Marcia put together our little rule book,’ Alex leans over to grab one. ‘Hope you’ve all learnt it off by heart?’ He looks around, amused. ‘For those who haven’t, Rick will explain all the big stuff.’

  Rick stands, half leaning against a rock, one foot on a box of drinks. I always think of him as Alex’s henchman. Another athlete – a rugby player – but the real reason he’s part of this school is that he has a photographic memory, and pretty much excels in anything that involves recalling any kind of data. Pity he doesn’t have the intelligence to go with. You can bet that he remembers every last sentence in the rule book, but he might not understand all the words.

  The music is turned down, and all eyes are on Rick. He straightens up. He’s not as easy in the spotlight as Alex, and he shifts his huge weight from foot to gigantic foot. But he is an Elder, and he is an alpha, and so he’s not going to die of nerves.

  ‘Welcome to the Game,’ he says gruffly.

  I shuffle a little on the rug, the cold can in my hands making my fingers ache, not wanting to open it and risk interrupting.

  ‘Get this straight, Guild members.’ Rick glowers in the flickering light, looking like some mythical creature, half-boy, half-minotaur. ‘This is not D&D. This is not Vampires, or Assassin or any of those lesser games.’ He rubs his meaty hands together, hunching huge shoulders forward and staring at us beneath his huge brow. His tiny eyes sparkle, and a seldom-seen smile creeps across his round face. ‘This is Killer, and you have all been invited to play. And you should play like your life depends on it.’

  CHAPTER 6

  There’s a nervous titter. Someone cracks open a can; obviously not everyone shares my reverence.

  ‘Yeah, get comfortable now,’ Rick says gruffly. ‘Kick back while you still can. Because in a few moments the Game begins, and when it does, nobody is safe. You,’ he sticks out a stubby finger at the girl – new recruit, Whitney, who flicked the ring pull. ‘You’ll never open a drink the same way again, at least not for the next few weeks. Because all the stuff you just took for granted, eating, drinking, walking into a classroom or taking a dump, turning on a radio or opening a book, all that changes in a few moments. You’re never safe, and you can trust nothing and no one. There will be booby traps, things lying in wait. The Killer will be active, and after us. Every last one.’

  Rick is warming up. Alex looks on from his beanbag, approvingly. Rick continues, ‘Apprentices, you have been chosen because: a) we like you – enough to want to see you die, humiliat
ingly, and b) you can be trusted. This is a Game, but it’s not for little kids. If you are a little kid, leave now.’

  Rick actually waits to see if anyone’s going to leg it. We’re all frozen to the spot, barely daring to move. The candles flicker in the slight breeze coming in from the outside, but it feels as if we are tucked away, deep in the earth.

  ‘Here’s how it works.’ Alex leans forward, his sandy fringe falling into his eyes, keen eyes that flick from one person to the next, transfixing us all with his gaze. ‘I’m the Grand Master, I run the Game.’

  As if we were in any doubt. I know he’s been longing to be Grand Master for years, he even told me as much when we briefly got close last term. His big brother – some bona fide engineering genius – ran the Game a few years ago, and it was a legendary year. Little brother has a lot to live up to, and now his moment has come. Alex is no brainiac, no ace sport star or super-creative prodigy. He’s kind of normal, like me. He’s popular and quick-witted and more than averagely good at a whole bunch of things, but he’s not special. He needs this Game to etch his name into the Umfraville history books.

  So far, so good, Alex. He takes a moment to enjoy the suspense. ‘Later, everyone picks a card.’ He points to a large velvet bag on the table beside Marcia. ‘On each card there’s one word, and if you’re the Killer, you’ll know.’ His laugh is low and soft, and short-lived. ‘Hear this!’ He spreads his hands wide, for emphasis. ‘Tell no one what is on your card, do you understand?’ He stares us down. ‘Nobody knows who the Killer is, except me, and I only know because the Killer tells me. That’s his or her first job.’

  ‘What, here, tonight?’ Tesha says. ‘How does that work?’

  ‘No, not tonight, doughnut.’ Alex shakes his head, as everyone laughs. ‘As soon as you can, without your cover being blown. Don’t be an idiot and tell me by Killing me, either. As Grand Master I can’t be the Killer or be Killed.’ He flashes those white teeth, but it’s more of a snarl than a smile. ‘Just slip me a note, IM me, whisper in my ear, whatever. Only make sure I know who you are before you go on your Killing spree, or the Kills don’t count.’